Blood and Guts
by deathtopixies3
Summary: Beth survived the unimaginable. Her traumatic experiences change her, and she struggles to bury the ghosts that haunt her. When she finds Daryl, they both have to confront their demons as well as the new dynamic of their relationship. Daryl resorts to his old ways, while Beth finds comfort in another. Will they be able to overcome their fears and have the guts to persevere?
1. Chapter 1

The emptiness was too much to bear. She stared forward into the darkness, hoping to push down all the fears of never finding her family. Maggie, Glenn, Rick, Carol, Judith; were they even able to be found? And then there was Daryl. Her heart fluttered, skipped a beat at the thought of him. Daryl. The thought of him kept her going. She had to find him; it wasn't his fault what had happened to her. Would she let them know, the others, what had happened to her? How it changed everything, made her want to die, yet inspired her to fight, to push forward. She could feel the ghosts of hands on her thighs, her hips, and her neck. It made her cringe and want to rip her flesh off.

Don't think of it. She is here now, pay attention to the woods around her. The fire she had started and put out an hour or so ago, still lent her some comfort. She was scared it was going to attract walkers, or any stragglers, but she had needed it, wanted it. She was very sleepy, and decided to climb up in the tree she had scouted. She tied the ropes she had around her legs and thick branch to keep her in place. She positioned her backpack on a nearby branch, ready at hand. Everything was just okay for right now in this moment. If anything were to stumble upon her makeshift camp for the night, hopefully she would know, or they wouldn't notice her up in the tree. She closed her eyes, absolutely exhausted. Her thoughts ran past her. Her daddy's face and words, inspiring her to fight harder, preparing her for the work ahead tomorrow. Then Daryl. Fantasies of him kept her warm. If she could just see his face, feel him, his strong arms around her, steadying her in place. She was close, she could just _sense _it. Her head lolled to the side as her thoughts finally pushed her over the edge into sleep.

Nightmares plagued her dreams, dripped them in red, swirling them around until her unconscious finally gave up, and forced itself into the tangible. She awoke with a startled cry, eyes instantly shooting open. It wasn't quite light yet, the darkness slowly creeping away, its absence bringing forth an ambiguity of day. The in-between, the unknown. She herself was in-between; between life and death. She often wondered about her existence. Was she real? Maybe she had never made it out of the run down shack. Her body, rotting away, giving way to the earth. It would be easier that way honestly, she thought. She had been on the road by herself for quite awhile now. A month, maybe two? Time got lost out here; her mind constantly wondering or painfully acute with adrenaline. Either way, she just kept walking, kept going. She hadn't come across more than four or five walkers at a time. She had become very good at recognizing the patterns of their drunken like movements, the dizzying, zig-zag patterns of feet. Often times, when she would accidentally stumble upon a few, they would be completely still. Her presence would awaken them, but gave her a chance to react and scope the situation out. If it were two, she could easily take them out with precise movements from her trusty blade. If there were more, she ran like hell.

She had honed in her tracking skills now. Daryl had taught her well. She was constantly thankful of her time with him. She had worked him up in her head as some sort of savior, his being kept her going. He was her angel, the little voice in the back of her mind, whispering on how to survive. She had to find them. She really had no idea where exactly she was, just a vague, general idea. Constantly, she searched for anything to give clues to their whereabouts. So far, she came across many abandoned camp sites, long forgotten, where she could maybe scavenge some useful things if she were lucky. Often she found signs left for loved ones, with little messages telling them to go this way or that, or just simply that they had been loved. They always made Beth feel mournful, and heavyhearted. None were ever for her. The silence of everything was deafening. She hadn't come across anyone, even scavenging through empty random houses or following the skeletons of roads for miles on end. The absence of everything left her feeling empty and reeling. Push forward, keep moving, ignore the constant tear and throb of muscles. She found pleasure in the burn of her muscles though, it was the only feeling she had that made her feel real, like she was actually alive.

She untied the rope keeping her connected to the tree, and slowly climbed down, landing quietly upon the ground. No interruptions last night, hadn't been for awhile. It was gradually getting colder and her worn sweater would soon not be enough. She would have to find a secure location, a house, something to hole up in for the winter if she didn't find anyone in time. She swallowed the panic roughly down her throat, the emotion flooding down her spine, rotting away in her stomach. All alone, all winter. She released a sigh and took a deep breath. Her head fell forward into her hands uncontrollably. She wanted to find them so bad; she could physically feel the pain from it. Allowing herself a moment to give in to her sorrow, she finally got her few possessions together, took a sip of the water canteen she carried, and took off south.

The day was unusually warm and beautiful, and it sent her into a calm, steady forward motion. The morning sun shone gracefully through the trees, the rays nuzzling the soft ground of the woods below her. She played with the patterns in her mind, how they reminded her of lazy days spent on the farm. How the light would come through her bedroom window so softly while she read or wrote in her diary; how the light would slip through the cracks of the barn, glistening off the horses and illuminating the hay like they were mounds of gold. That was all gone now, and her heart felt heavy from all the memories. No need to focus on it now, it was all gone. Everything was gone. She couldn't give up though, couldn't lie down and cry over everything she had lost. Maggie wouldn't, Daryl wouldn't, so she sure in hell wasn't going to.

A rumble from her stomach sent her next objective towards getting some food. Anything she could find she would take. Sometimes, she ate berries, or an apple, or her favorite, a soft, sweet peach. But, with the coming winter, and the weather steadily getting chillier, she knew that they would no longer be an option anymore. She stayed clear of any areas she knew would be over populated with walkers. Didn't want to take any risks and get caught up with something she couldn't handle, whether it was a herd of walkers or just survivors looking to take advantage of her. She kept to the woods, back roads, and isolated buildings, finding whatever she needed there. For now, she kept moving forward. The plan to find food was cut short when she noticed some tracks coming across her own. They were heavy-footed and in a straight line. This was no walker. She could make out faint boot prints into the ground, larger than an average woman's would be. She wouldn't have even noticed it, except for the heaviest, most distinct footprint had come directly across her own path.

Was this a sign? Her intuition was telling her to follow these prints into the unknown. They looked fresh, at least within the last few hours. She followed her intuition and turned left, heading east. She stayed off to the right of the tracks, paying attention to the pattern of leaves scattered so she could follow the trail accurately. Her imagination was running wild. Who could these tracks belong to? Praying they were Daryl's, Rick's, or Glenn's; anyone from her family. She decided she would be stealthy. Stay back, watch, wait, be patient, see who this was before they could see her. If it wasn't someone she knew, well, she would burn that bridge when she came to it.


	2. Chapter 2 Crimson and Velvet

She had been following the tracks for about an hour when she spotted a walker out of the corner of her eye. Quickly she twisted her body behind the nearest tree wide enough to hide her. The heavy footed steps and low growls gradually got louder as the seconds passed. It had walked past the tree by a few yards and kept going on. She had a hold of her knife, indecisive of whether she should use it or not, but it had already gotten a ways away from her now, and she decided to let it be. Thinking she was safe, she turned out from behind the tree, just to abruptly collide head on with another walker. Snapping at her face, lunging towards her with its decrepit, rotting body, she collapsed under its weight from the surprise attack. With one hand gripped under the walker's jaw pushing it away from her, she jabbed her knife underneath the positioning of her hand, gliding it into the skin a little too easily. Black, thick blood poured out of the wound as she pulled it out. She had missed the brain somehow and it continued to fight against her, grabbing and pulling at her sweater, snapping its teeth in anticipation of warm flesh. This time she forced her arm up at an angle so that she could release all her force into the walker's eye, sliding the knife in all the way to the handle. It stopped squirming, slumped forward, and she let her arms collapse from the tension, bringing the bloodied corpse to rest on top of her.

The blood continued to pour onto her chest, neck and shoulders. Its eye and connecting nerves were splattered onto her sweater, and the blood was everywhere. She could feel the sludge working its way down her shirt into her bra. Walker blood was always so different from human blood. It was thicker, darker, and had a rancid smell, intensifying by how long ago it had turned. She knew things like that now. How human blood wasn't as thick or smelly, was more red too, smoother somehow. Blood, always so much blood. She hated it; hated what it always meant. She rolled the walker off of her, observing its appearance. It was a woman with short, cropped, hair. It was pitch black with hues of blue, and Beth could easily imagine how beautiful it must have looked back before it had become a walker, when it was a daughter, a sister, a friend, a mother. "I'm sorry," Beth whispered, "I'm so sorry."

More moaning, more growls. She looked up to see the walker she had let go of earlier now making its way towards her, attracted by the sound of the attack. This one was a young man, draped in red and black flannel with dark jeans. Probably some local boy or farmer's son, maybe she had known him or their paths had crossed before the world went to shit, but it really didn't matter. She rose from the ground and with purposeful steps, marched her way over to him and stabbed him up under the chin, making sure to get the brain this time. He collapsed and she collected her knife from under its head. Crimson red, so dark, so smooth. She wiped the blade on her jeans. She did what she had to do.

It had been a warmer day, nice and sunny, but still had a crisp feel to the air that was so distinctly fall. She had always loved the fall season. She had loved carving pumpkins with her daddy and momma, Maggie, and Sean. Eating taffy apples and carelessly playing in the fallen leaves. They had laughed so hard and so easily then. Never in her wildest nightmares had she of believed what her life was now. Walking around through the woods, her only hope a path of footprints, like her whole entire life depended on it. The warmth of the sun had dried the blood on her sweater, but she could still feel the sticky mess inside her shirt, clinging to her skin. Pools of sweat and clumpy blood had collected in her bra. Beth felt pretty damn gross, and realized she hadn't had a proper washing in weeks. She was accustomed to the dirt and grime of living in the woods, but being covered in walker blood had always made her more aware of the filth. She had been following these damn footprints all day with no signs of anything. Where were they going? Who the hell was making these? She wanted to find something to clean herself up with, but no way was she leaving these tracks. She sure in hell wasn't going to use her drinking water either, staying hydrated was more important than being clean.

Just when she was thinking that everything was hopeless, that she was so stupid for even thinking anything good would ever happen, she heard a distinct noise up ahead of her. Someone was chopping wood, most likely to build a fire for the quickly approaching darkness. The day had surprisingly slipped past her, yet felt like it had been a hundred years. She quickly and quietly crouched down behind some bushes. Now that she was here, so close to who she had been tracking, what the hell was she going to do? Her instincts screamed for her to wait, to hold her off from making herself known just yet. She hadn't seen anyone, just heard them, and the desperation of panic and fear worked its way up from her core. If she could just position herself, maybe she could get a good look somehow before the sun quickly descended. Whoever it was was just through a patch of thick brush and more trees. Staying down and motionless for what seemed an eternity, made her realize how hungry she was. Even with all the excitement and anticipation, all her exertion and energy she had spent made her down right starving. Maybe this person was getting ready to cook something. The thought was almost too much to handle. It didn't matter who it was now, as long as they fed her.

Night had descended upon them now, and she could begin to smell smoke, the way it wrapped around her body pulling her in. It was just around those bushes, if she could keep quiet enough, she could peek through undetected. She could hear some rustling going on, sounds of boots pacing the ground, of things dropping and getting shuffled around. She took her chance and despite crunching a few leaves, had made it over as quiet as a mouse. All of her muscles were tense, ready to fight or run away if need be. Her body was filled with a rush of energy and blood pumped its way to her face and hands. She could literally feel her nerves, the pulsing energy they released from her body. Her mind was surprisingly still; she wasn't allowing herself to think of anything but the controlled movements of her limbs.

This was the moment it all came down to. She took a second to take the moment in. After this, the hope would be gone; she would have her answer she spent all day chasing after. It would be real. Calming and steadying herself, she inhaled a tight, quiet breath, holding it in unconsciously. Slipping her fingers through the brush, she pushed them aside as gracefully as she could. Her heart was pumping a million beats per second and she forgot to exhale while her brain tried to register what she took in. She saw a small fire, proudly lighting and cackling in the middle of a small clearing, casting tall shadows upon the giant trees surrounding them. Their shadows contorted the branches into whispers, releasing their dark secrets into the night. A tiny, but undeniable tent had been propped up in the corner across from her, and she could make out the outline of a bag set against it. Crouching with his back to her towards the tent, and the fire between them, he slowly stood up. The illuminated wings on his vest seemed to stretch out and glide over his thickly muscled back. She knew who it was right away, didn't even need to see anything else, but he turned around and gazed into the small burning fire. A scowl covered his face, and he was deep in thought, the look she had become familiar with and fallen in love with all those weeks ago. He was lost in his reveries while Beth was lost in her shock.

Her breathe escaped from her lungs in an immense burst as she registered everything that was happening. _Daryl_. Without even thinking, she stood up and walked around the bushes, entering through an opening between two huge oak trees as if in a dream. Coming into the small forest gap that was his campsite, she paused right between the two oaks, placing her right hand against the trunk, steadying her. She just stared at him in disbelief, unable to string together any words to describe how she was feeling; she just gazed at the man standing across from her. The only thing between them now was the brightly burning fire, shaping their silhouettes; their bodies a stage for the dancing shadows, twisting and turning this way and that. It was so beautifully grotesque and surreal.

"Daryl." She sighed. All the built up tension in her body released with the sound of his name from her mouth. His eyes, so dark and deep, melted into hers.

"Beth?"


	3. Chapter 3 Where Lightening Strikes

Chapter 3 Where lightening strikes

Daryl couldn't believe she was standing in front of him. She appeared out of nowhere, manifesting out of the twilight woods surrounding them. It was all so sudden, he had no idea what to do or say. A burst of affection exploded in his chest, expanding into his arms and legs, making his head feel heavy and feverish. He was so shocked to see her, it had all happened so fast. They stared at each other, soaking the other person in. She didn't move, just remained nestled in where she was. She looked hesitant to step forward into the gap, breaking the barrier between his campsite and the world around it. She used those two giant oak trees as a shield, protecting her from uncertainty.

"I found you, I actually did it. I found you." Beth's face looked confused at first, questioning, but it eventually gave way to a small smile. Daryl noticed how her smile looked strained, like the muscles in her face forgot how to. "I'm here, right? And you, you're real?" Her smile faded and her big blue eyes pierced through his fogginess, snapping him back into reality.

"Yeah, you're here, and I hope I am too. _Shit. _Beth, where have you been?" He looked at her in awe. He had spent all his time looking for her after they escaped Terminus. He stayed, determined to find her, but as it turned out, she found him.

"I, I.." tears clouded her eyes and she shook her head, unable to speak. She started towards him with hesitant steps, splitting the distance between them now. Daryl stood there, dumbfounded. What could he do to comfort her, to wipe those tears away? He had no idea how to do that, to show the girl the warmth he so desperately felt towards her. He stopped thinking, letting the powerful pull of their bodies win, and they both ended up colliding into one another. She slammed into his body and the impact felt wonderful. They latched onto each other, Beth crying into his chest. He closed his eyes, and held her, drinking her in.

"I was gone, Daryl. I survived though, I made it."

He gripped her tighter, relishing in the feel of her body attached to his. He never wanted to let go, appreciating the intimacy the contact between them held. They remained that way, and for a moment, forgot all the heartache they ever endured; allowing themselves to live in the pleasure of finding each other, finally.

"I've been lookin' for ya y'know." His voice was a soft, low, rumble vibrating through his chest.

"I was so alone out there Daryl. Felt like the only person in the world, I knew that couldn't be though," she pushed her neck back, tilting her head to look straight up in to him, "you're still gonna be the last man standin'." Her face was smeared with blood and dirt. Her hair had clumps of blood in it as well, parts of it matted together with the thick clotting. It was pulled back in her usual ponytail, wild loose fuzzy curls caressed her face, and by the firelight, she was a sight for some very sore eyes. "Did you miss me?"

"You have no idea how bad. You were all I could think about. Beth, I'm so sorry." His head turned to the side, unable to meet her gaze. His voice faltered with his anguish, and he fought to hold back tears he didn't know he had. "I shoulda protected you better, I knew it was a trap, I should of…"

"Stop, okay? How could you have known what was gonna happen? It isn't your fault, don't blame yourself." With that she let go of his waist and took several steps back. "If anything, being with you helped me survive."

He really saw her now. The guts weaved into her torn, dingy sweater. Her loose jeans, smeared with dark stains. He noticed a look in her eyes that hadn't been there before either. Those big eyes used to be full of innocence despite of all the losses at the farm and prison, still reflected some tiny shred of hope. Now, they had a wild, fierce determination to them. She was frightening, covered in blood and guts, and that _look._Even Daryl would have been hesitant to come across her out here, he realized.

"Jesus, what happened to ya? I got some extra clothes and water, to y'know, clean ya up sum', only if ya want to."

"Walkers happened. And yeah, thanks."

He went to his bag and pulled out a long sleeved flannel he had. He was already wearing an undershirt, a long sleeved one over that, and then his vest. Even if he wouldn't have had that extra flannel, he would have given her the shirts off his back. He grabbed a bottle of water he had lying around from one of his runs earlier, and pulled a bandana he always carried out of his pocket.

"Here, take this." He handed her the flannel and she looked confused, like she didn't know what to do with it. "You can take off that sweater and put that on. We can find ya somethin' else tomorrow, ransack a few houses, take what ya need."

"Oh, okay." She was eerily quiet now, and had a far off look to her. Daryl for once found he was talking more than she was. She fiddled with the buttons, slowly working her fingers over the smooth plastic, guiding their way through the holes. Looking down to the ground, appearing uncomfortable and shy, she hesitated as she reached the last button. He turned around, busying himself with his bag but glanced at her sideways, he couldn't help it. She took her sweater off slowly, holding it in her hands, folding it over and setting it down softly on the ground beside her book bag.

"It feels weird to, I don't know, not have it a part of me anymore." Looking sideways at him, her hand still placed on the sweater, that same dazed look that reminded Daryl of a lost, wild animal. What had happened to her?

"It's fine." He mumbled, pouring water onto the bandana. "Do you want to, or I can..." He let his words trail off. He felt awkward now, didn't know if touching her was appropriate. She had hugged him earlier, but that didn't mean she wanted him to now. She confused and bewildered him. It was Beth, but she seemed different now.

"You can, it's alright. I can't really see myself too good."

"Should sit down, make it easier." He suggested as he sauntered over to her. She folded herself cross-legged down onto the ground, in which he followed, scooting in next to her. He began to wipe away the blood and dirt from her face, focusing on being as gentle and soft as he could. Her cheeks had sunken in more and he could really tell how her body had leaned out with muscle. She stared forward into the fire while he slowly wiped her face, then worked his way down her neck, making sure to get under the chin, then her shoulders. He was trying to go as gentle as he could, only scrubbing a bit at the stubborn spots that clung to her white skin. As he was done with what he could get off her neck and bit of revealed shoulder, he tensed up. He didn't know if he should continue onto her chest, made visible by her v-neck shirt, or not. He wasn't getting off on it or anything, he just respected her space. Beth gave no response to anything, just kept staring blankly into the fire. He hesitantly starting working his way underneath her clavicle, then decided better of it. He threw the cloth onto her thigh and set the water bottle down next to her, getting up from his position on the ground next to her. Without missing a beat she picked up the bandana and shoved her hand into her shirt. She had done it so quickly; he barely had time to turn away before she reached behind her, lifting up her shirt in the back to unclasp her bra, pulling it off her. Daryl blushed and awkwardly tried to busy himself, rustling through his things.

It amazed him how women did that trick so easily. Working a woman's bra wasn't too difficult when he had messed with them in the past, but those graceful, swift motions, of reaching behind and up, and around then down, stumped him. He didn't want to turn around until he knew it was absolutely okay to, and busied himself taking stock and arranging his stuff around. She cleared her throat suddenly asking, "So, what ya got to eat around here?"

"I got some squirrel meat, only one of 'em though. You can have it, had a big lunch."

"Daryl, I ain't takin' your only food. We could split it though, huh?"

"No really, I ain't even hungry. Like I said, big lunch." He rubbed his belly and sighed for effect. He was lying, he hadn't had anything to eat for lunch, but he had had something to eat that morning. He wondered the last thing Beth had eaten and when. He had already skinned the squirrel, pulled its innards out, it just had to cook. He picked up a long stick and skewered the squirrel, handing it over to Beth. She grabbed it, accidentally grazing his hand, and pulled away quickly, looking flustered. They settled into a comfortable silence, which seemed to calm her down, and they stared into the fire. Daryl had so much to tell her, had so many questions of his own, where did he even begin? The words flew around his brain, where they then turned to mush on his tongue. There was so much to say, he decided not to say anything. He was content to finally be able to just be with her again. To have her here was enough.

It was real dark now, and he worried about the fire blazing, all the horrible things it could summon from the somber woods around them. Instead of doing what he wanted to do, talk to her, he ran over all the plans and things he had to do now with her here. He was so deep in his mind making a list of things to accomplish, her voice had startled him.

"Daryl?" she asked her voice hoarse and grainy.

"Hm?"

"What happened to you after, you know?" Holding the stick into the fire, occasionally twirling it around to cook the squirrel evenly, she asked him what he hadn't had the guts to ask her.

"Well, I ran after that car, but it just kept movin'," _Pulling you farther away from me, _he thought. "Then I got in with some real mean sonsabitches, not for too long though. They were huntin' somebody down, gettin' revenge for one of their own and all, it turned out to be Rick they were lookin' for."

She looked at him in surprise, and when he didn't continue on right away she urged him to keep going. "And then what?"

"There was a fight, a bloody one. Rick was with Carl and Michonne, and we all made it out alive, just barely, but we did. We had to kill 'em."

"You do what you gotta do." she stated. The fire accentuated her words, shaping and creating them into an eerie and powerful like omen.

"Yeah, I know that, still gives ya one hell of a beatin' though. We followed some tracks to a place called Terminus after that. Rick was headed there; saw the signs up and all, sayin' it was a place for survivors." She turned her head to look at him straight on then, he kept going. "It was a trap, herded us into some box car like we was some damn animals. Found your sister in there, Glenn, and some others too."

"Maggie?" Her voice raised an octave and her eyes brightened a bit. Her body seemed to come alive for the first time since their hug. "Is she alive?"

"Yeah, so are Glenn, Sasha, and Bob. Glenn picked up some people on the road, Abraham, Rosita, Tara, and Eugene. Says he's some scientist, says he's got the reason this all started, and the cure. They were on their way to D.C. when they came across Glenn, says it was their mission."

"Is he for real?"

"I dunno, but those Terminus people were gon' kill us. Gon' eat us too."

Her face revolted at what he revealed and she shook her head. "You all got out though. Maggie, she's still alive, right?"

"Yeah, Eugene convinced those people at Terminus. Gareth, their leader, some young prick, almost killed us, but I guess he decided to believe him. They're on their way to D.C. now, even Gareth's with 'em."

"You believe him?"

"Eugene?"

"Yeah, the scientist. Does he really have a cure?"

Daryl had no idea, had never actually talked to Eugene about his so-called cure. Matter of fact, he hadn't heard Eugene talk about it at all. Eugene had kept to himself, constantly surrounded by that babysitter of his Abraham. Daryl didn't know what to believe, and honestly, he didn't really care much. He didn't have the energy for it, and it made him feel like a bigger piece of shit than he already thought he was, but he understood why it was important. What was the world going to be like after, if what he said was true? Then what? He thought about Beth, how the world was made for people like him now, but not for her. Having hope about Eugene and his cure would maybe brighten her up again; give her something to look forward to, to fight for. Still, he couldn't help but doubt the scientist.

"I don't know. All I know is that we got out alive. I stayed behind, looking for you. We have plans to meet up again, once I got you back and all."

"Oh."

"Maggie wanted to come y'know, but it would be easier to do it alone. I can move quicker, cover more ground. Plus, they need all the muscle they can get to save the world and all. She told me to tell you she loves you. She was scared to death about you."

"I miss her." She quietly revealed, the sadness in her voice was like nails going into Daryl's eyes. He knew about missing siblings, and at least Maggie was still out there. He hoped that she would never have to experience what he had with Merle. Thinking about his brother now made him mournful for the life that they were never able to have, for that lost second chance that could have been at the prison. Her relationship with Maggie was less complicated, filled with love and trust. He trusted his brother, no doubt, but he knew Merle was a volcano, always the possibility of erupting at a moment's notice. Daryl had his moments too, but it was so hard for him to let go most of the time.

Thinking of his brother, what they had survived, always made the scars on his back tingle. Remembering those awful nights his father would stumble around drunk, forcing Daryl down and lashing him until his back would be wet with blood and dripping down his sides. How his father would laugh in his face and burn him with cigarette butts if he even began to tear up from the pain. Storms violently lashed out in his mind, his back humming where lightening had stuck him, giving off electrical currents that powered his anger. How he had followed Merle around for so long, like some fucking punk ass dog with his tail between his legs, doing whatever he said. Daryl wondered if Merle hadn't of been trapped up on that roof, if he wouldn't of sawed off his hand, where they would be now. They were planning on robbing that first Atlanta camp blind, and they definitely would have done it too.

How did Daryl get to where he was now? He was seen as somebody trustworthy, someone to fight for, had a family to live for. It still all felt strange to him, to have people so close to him. Rick had even said that he considered him his brother. He felt love for all these people, the responsibility to protect them weighed heavily on his conscious. Rick had wanted him to go to D.C., but he couldn't. The man didn't seem to fully understand his desire and devotion to finding Beth, but Daryl didn't care. He wasn't going to let her go; he wasn't going to give up so easily. At the thought of her, he glanced up and over at her. She was busy eating the squirrel, using her hands and teeth to tear into the tough meat. She devoured it, and the look of satisfaction on her face made the emptiness in his stomach worth it. They sat in silence for a long time.

Neither of them found the need to fill the air with chatter, although Daryl remembered how Beth used to fill these empty spaces with stories about her life before, the things she liked, just anything that crossed her mind. Daryl was always so locked up inside himself, he didn't understand how to talk like that, so open. Now, she sat sullen and silent, staring blankly into the fire. He missed her chatter now, hearing the patterns of her thoughts. He wished he could hear them now. He didn't want to push her into telling him where she had been, who had taken her, even though it was eating him up inside. Maybe it was better he didn't know. He didn't usually want to interrogate people about their lives, but with her, he desperately wanted to connect with her, to know her. He couldn't explain it; it was so alien to him. After she was taken from him, it was like a light had been plucked from his life, just like that, so easily. Their time together before had changed him, made him stronger. She had given him hope for the future. Whatever was going on with her, he had to do what she had done for him. He would be patient, wait for her to open up to him, if she ever did. He would always be there for her no matter what, and the passion within him was terrifying.

"Should put it out, yanno." She broke the silence, like she saw inside him, could read his mind. She had meant the fire, but a feeling of guilt still plagued him. He was scared to feel what he was feeling towards her. Maybe it was wrong; they were so different in so many ways. But that feeling of connectedness they had, or used to, still lingered inside him. He felt it, maybe she did too.

"Nah, let's keep it going tonight."

"You sure?"

"Definitely" She visibly relaxed, looking calmer than she had all evening. He gazed at her intensely, he couldn't help it. He wanted to examine every part of her, to explore her thoughts and be able to understand her completely. She was an abyss of stars, and Daryl knew he would never be able to figure her out, and he accepted that. He loved the mystery that was Beth, it intrigued and fascinated him.

"I know you wanna know where I've been, what happened while I was out there, but not right now. I don't want to talk about it yet, okay Daryl? I just really want to enjoy this, right here with you."

She must have noticed his study of her, and he felt bad for making her vocalize her insecurity like that. "I'd never make you do anything like that. If ya wanna tell me you can. If you don't, you don't. S'fine by me.."

Her soft eyes closed, and she took a deep breath in and out. "Thank you. I missed you so much, you'll never know."

He didn't want to ruin the moment for her, so he stayed silent. He didn't deserve one minute of Beth Greene's time. He was crazy for feeling how he did towards her. He had missed her so bad. It was like one of his arrows had turned on him and pierced his chest it hurt so much. A heaviness he constantly carried that whispered her name wherever he went. She had found her way to him, had said it herself. Maybe he wasn't crazy; maybe she felt the same way towards him.

"Is that tent big enough for two?"

He completely, idiotically forgot about the tent and sleeping arrangements for tonight. He just sort of automatically assumed she'd want to sleep in the tent alone with him keeping watch. "Yeah, It'd be tight though. I'll stay out here, keep watch."

"No way, you gave me your dinner, I ain't takin' your bed too. I don't mind a snug fit. It's nice to feel safe with someone else again." She protested against him, refusing to hear another word of it.

The fire's warmth and soft light had made him very tired now, and all he wanted was to feel her so close to him. He got butterflies in his stomach just thinking about being near her in the tent. She stood up and stretched her arms high up above her head, flexing her calf muscles up, bouncing up on her toes. The flannel shirt engulfed her body, and she seemed to find it cozy enough. Her seeming enjoyment probably had nothing to do with him, but it brought a strange sensation, seeing her wear it. He liked it.

"Well, I'm ready to pass out. This day has been exhausting." She walked past him towards the tent. He had already set up the blanket he carried with him in there earlier, and wished he had a pillow for her as well. Tonight would be a bit rough, but he would change all that tomorrow.

She must have noticed the indecision on his face, because she coaxed him up and towards her, "Well, you getting in?" He was getting real nervous, why was he getting so nervous? He wanted nothing more than to follow her into that tent, but for some reason he couldn't move his feet

"I'm gonna do a quick check around here first, I'll be back." With that he stifled the flames of the small fire, grabbed his crossbow, swinging it over his shoulder onto his back, and took off into the night, not looking back.


	4. Chapter 4 Too Late

**Hey there, thank you so much for the reviews and follows! I hope y'all are enjoying it! Another one from Daryl's POV, I'll be switching it up and hopefully it'll be obvious who it is. The story will move forward after this chapter. I just really wanted to get both Beth and Daryl's views on things and where they are coming from. **

Out in the darkness, he weaved a pattern in and out of the trees, possessing a synchronicity with the night. He was in tune with the environment, perked to any sounds that could heed warning. He did laps around the camp, begging his mind to think of anything other than the nervousness boiling in his stomach. Pacing, he tried to understand his feelings, to shove them down and out of his mind. It was usually so easy for him, to bottle things up, shut them up and ignore them. They would eventually build up from the tension, boiling over and exploding out of him, usually resorting in him getting volatile or hostile; but what he was trying to ignore now, it was different. He had never allowed himself to feel this way towards anyone. It freaked him out more than the thought of coming back from the dead did. He had been fighting against himself for so long, and what Beth did to him, made him question everything. He didn't think he could bear being so close to her all night. It was all he wanted, and the restraint it took to not disappear into her took all his power.

He hated himself. Seeing how different she was, how guarded and closed off she had become. That was because of him, because he couldn't protect her. It made him want to lash out and hit something; if he could just go back and save her from whatever terrible thing happened to her, had done something different, anything. Whoever took her, what they could have done to her; that was on him. His guilt was excruciating, and _God_ he wanted to hit something, to release all this pain he was suffering. He tensed his hands into fists as he wandered around aimlessly in passionate fury. Being out here in the darkness was the best remedy against this anger, it would soothe him eventually. Being alone with the silence made his mistakes easier to handle. He didn't have to be anything out here, didn't have to think or worry about how to act. Tip-toeing around people, being hyper-aware to his body, his actions, exhausted him. He never knew the right words to say, the right things to do, so he would shut himself off. As much as he was overjoyed to have found her, he had needed time alone to digest it all. He found comfort in the silence. It was always there, whether he wanted it to or not. The silence didn't expect anything from him; he could isolate himself, indulge in his self-hatred, his private tortures.

He waited awhile before going back to the campsite, working to get his immediate rage out of his system before returning. Surveying it from the tree line, without the fire the camp had lacked any sort of comfort. It looked so bleak, and he felt bad about leaving her here all alone. He wished he could think of these kinds of things before he did them. He cursed himself for being so stupid; it was always too late before his behavior would register with him. He was still getting used to his actions affecting other people. They never did before, and he hadn't ever had to worry about it. No one had ever worried about him before. He could always take care of himself, didn't need to rely on anyone for anything.

Earlier, the overwhelming urge to escape had overpowered him. He was defenseless against himself sometimes, this 'other' part of him. It was so raw and buried deep inside him. It was his survival, had kept him safe his entire life. He let it guide him; he listened to its harsh murmurs. This feeling was instinct and purely primal. Daryl didn't understand it, and it scared him how it could explode out of him sometimes. His vision would get blurry, cloaked in red and black and he would let it wash over him like a hurricane. It had happened with Joe and his gang of no good bastards, and it had happened at Terminus. When Daryl felt threatened or scared, it took over and protected him. Never learning how to fight against it, he accepted it as a part of him; he didn't even know if he could fight it. It built a barrier around him, an escape mechanism to avoid the viciousness he had had to endure. If he hadn't of developed this ability, he would of never made it out of that shit hole shack he grew up in, suffering at his father's greasy, vile hands.

Instead of unzipping the tent, crawling in beside the warmth and coziness of the tiny tent, appreciating the closeness of her like he fantasized about, he sat down a little ways away, creeping as quietly as he could. He slumped back against a rigid trunk, punishing himself for his failures. His mind wondered, his body primed to any danger. Something happened to him when he became close to Beth, a frantic heaviness in his chest would pound against his ribcage, and he couldn't shake it. It was getting harder and harder to remain so stiff, so bottled up against her. It was unbearable, this weight, and not doing anything about it. What could he do, really? As much as he fantasized about going in that tent with her, as much he had wanted it, he couldn't. It was easier to just not deal with it. He had become accustomed to the necessity of this wanting, this weight that he deserved to carry around. To stay out here, separate, alone; that's who Daryl was, no matter how deep Beth got inside his head, he knew it. Keeping watch was more important anyway, he reminded himself.

Wishing he had a cigarette to busy his hands, he grabbed an arrow from his crossbow and inspected it instead. Noticing how strong and sturdy it was, the silky blackness shining in the pale moonlight. He pictured how graceful it would glide on top the air, flying like a raven in the sky. Seamless, smooth, yet so focused in its path. He tried to be like his arrows, strong, determined, and driven. He would get Beth back to Maggie, to her family, their family. Nothing is going to get in his path now. He lined his crossbow in sight of an imaginary target, and released. He was going to meet up with the rest of them, get him and Beth there unharmed, together, where she belonged. Maybe then this ache in his chest would subside. He felt responsible for her, felt a duty to Herschel to protect his beloved youngest daughter with hair of sunshine and a voice as soft as honey. She was a light in this world, brightening it, making it better, no matter how hard or low she fell. Without her, the world would become duller, a single candle in the dark extinguished, inviting a hollow void to fill her place. People like her were going to be the saviors, the redeemers of this forsaken world. Not Daryl, he was replaceable.

He knew she was sleeping by the hushed cries coming from the tent. She was kicking and twisting, moaning out stifled screams and panicked 'no's' over and over again. Not only did she have to live in a nightmare, she had to dream them as well. Never could they escape their reality, not even in sleep. Daryl didn't dream often, but when he did, they were never pleasant. They were always filled with pain, Daryl fighting uselessly against some faceless enemy. As hard as he would try to hit its blurred face, he never could. Daryl would try his hardest to put his full force behind his fist, only for it to barely graze the black mask of a face. This was a common dream he had had his whole life, and they only got more frequent and elaborate with the end of the world.

Should he wake her, make sure she was okay? He had no idea what he was supposed to do, so he did what he knew how to, and left her alone. Staying outside, listening to the rough battle playing out in her subconscious, he worried about her. She had developed that sense; that preternatural survival instinct that had hardened her. It was difficult to turn off; Daryl knew that all too well. What parts of herself did she have to lose, to give up in order to make room for it? Daryl knew it had come at a cost. These things didn't happen for any reason; they crawled up inside the empty cracks of yourself, split open by the paralyzing fear, sealing them up inside you permanently. They left gaping wounds, never being able to be fully healed, always spilling out hot blood. The fear Daryl felt was all-consuming: the fear of losing Beth completely, not knowing what was going to happen, the fear of changing things, possibly making them worse. This world was full of enemies, some expected and some unexpected. All you could do was react. His heart burned from the anxiety.

He knew he could get Beth back to her sister. He could possibly repair some of those fresh wounds before they could become scars on her graceful soul. She still had a chance, unlike him. His were all too old, too set in place. She had come close to tearing them down before, but then she had been taken. It would always be too late for Daryl, he had lost too much blood. Beth didn't have to be this way though. He made a vow to himself; he was going to do whatever it took to save her from diving into herself, drowning in the endless void of anguish. He had to, he owed her as much.


	5. Chapter 5 Torn Open

**Just a warning, there are some graphic scenes involving rape in this chapter! **

_Coarse ropes grinded roughly into her wrists and ankles, forcing her arms above her head and legs splayed apart. What was that ringing? Why did her head feel like it had been split open wide and someone had poured gasoline on her brain? She couldn't move her arms or legs, and when she tried to open her eyes it was as if they were glued shut they were so heavy. It was all black, she wondered if she had gone blind. Where was she? What happened? Then it all came rushing back to her with intense dread. She remembered she had limped out of the home she had shared with Daryl for the last few days, making it out to the road safely undisturbed by walkers. They were all up front or in the house, and she had escaped from the back. She was so nervous, the knife she held in her hands kept slipping, and she repeatedly had to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans. Her damn ankle was writhing in pain, and she focused on steadying her weight on the other foot. She wished she could have helped Daryl, trapped in there with all those walkers. The guilt overwhelmed her. How did it even happen in the first place? Something wasn't right and the eerie sense crept up her spine, spreading goose bumps over her shoulders. Before she could even get off the road to find a place to wait hidden, she heard the sound of boots on the pavement running behind her. She turned quickly, only to get blindsided by something blunt and heavy to her forehead. Stinging, crushing pressure forced her to the ground. With no time to react, to fight back, she was completely defenseless lying crippled on the road. She felt large, calloused hands wrap around her forearms as she was dragged backwards. The last thing she saw was her bag on the ground, scattered and splayed out. The realization of what was happening stabbed her in the gut, and then the blackness faded over her last thoughts of Daryl. _

_ She woke, tied up and restrained to sturdy wooden bed posts in only her underwear. The hardness below her was some sort of mattress and it carved into her body like jagged sharp rocks. Moving her legs was impossible and her ankle screamed with the pain of a thousand sharp needles pricking into her bones. She attempted to move her arms around, but the rubbing of the ropes dug into her wrists, they were tied so tightly. She knew her eyes were open, she could feel her eyelashes brush against her skin, but she saw nothing. Blackness surrounded her, and her other senses went into overdrive. The unbearable panic seized her muscles paralyzing her limbs. Her heart was a hammer beating against her chest, smashing through the muscles and ribcage keeping it in place. Never had she ever felt this much anxiety, this much crippling fear. Not even when that herd came through the farm, when the prison was attacked, or when she witnessed her daddy getting murdered. She was all alone in the dark now. In her realization, she let out a small whimper, a gasp of pure terror and panic. It rang in her head like an echo bouncing off the empty walls of a cave. _

_Her last moments on the road played out in her mind, and she had been blind against her attacker. How could she have been stupid enough to not of seen the car? She never heard the sounds of an engine, so it had to have been parked there on the side of the road. She had absolutely no idea who had taken her or where she was now. She could smell dirt, raw earth and the air felt damp and heavy. Maybe she was in a basement? These moments felt like forever, and she cried tears of panic and frustration. The terror gripped her and shook her body like it was being electrocuted. Over and over again she prayed to God to protect her, save her. _

_ Time didn't exist in those painful moments, and she had no idea how long she had been awake for when she began to hear the vibration of weight pounding down a set of stairs in a room next to where she was trapped. They stomped around, sounding like they were coming closer to her. They stopped, and to the right of her a door opened, dragging against the dirt floor. The light poured over her, causing her eyes, accustomed to the darkness, to feel as if shards of glass were being shoved into her eyelids. She blinked the pain away, not able to resist staring out into the whiteness. A shadowed form filled the doorway, the light spilling out around the large shoulders, making the body seem bigger, darker; a demon rising out from the depths of hell._

_ "Hey there cutie." His voice was deep, grating against her eardrum. It was the most horrible sound Beth had ever heard. He excitedly stepped forward, and Beth's terror made her want to throw up. Her fear consumed her entire being and her muscles felt as if they would catch on fire. _

_ "No use in fightin' lil' girl, I got you real good. Been waitin' for ya to wake up for awhile, now the fun can begin." The man reached out and ran his coarse hands up her naked thighs, stopping just below her hips, his thumbs digging into her upper thigh painfully. A deep, vile laugh erupted from his mouth, and he looked up into her face. Beth's tears from earlier were still present on her face, and he reached up and wiped them roughly. "Ain't you happy to be wit me? I's been lookin' for a pretty little thing like you my whole life. Mhm." He moaned in satisfaction, licking his lips. _

_ Absolutely terrified, she shut her eyes tight and dug her head into her arm, desperately trying to avoid her fate. He rubbed himself against her, his laughter razor blades cutting through her skin. She couldn't move, couldn't fight against the assault. It took all her strength and courage to endure the disgust and pain she felt as he removed her panties and penetrated her. She couldn't believe this was happening to her, that her first time would be against her will. Something that she had always imagined to be so beautiful and passionate reduced to embarrassment and revulsion. _

_ Her thoughts were foggy and empty as she attempted to escape the hell she found herself in. His weight on top of her, the painful force of his thrusts, the sweat dripping off his body onto her neck and torso like drops of acid burning holes through her skin. She thought she could will her soul from her body, but was painfully trapped inside. When he finished, he pulled himself from her, and she felt a hot stickiness pour out of her. He wiped his fingers along her opening, and brought them back up in front of him; they were smeared with blood. _

_ "Oooo girl! You so innocent, I'm gon have fun with you now, you sweet thing. So young and so tight, damn!" Beth dug her head out from her arm and looked at him straight on. She was absolutely repulsed, that stupid, hideous smile he wore and his fingers soaked in her blood. Anger replaced the fear and it quickly simmered through her body. He reached forward, wiping her blood onto her cheeks and lips. _

_ "Like a doll." He mockingly muttered against her. _

_ Disgust filled every fiber of her being and her rage boiled over. She spit forcefully into his face, and he automatically slapped her with the back of his hand. The pain was nothing compared to what she had just endured, she was completely numb from his assault. In a tight, stern voice he scolded her, "Don't you ever think of disrespectin' me like that 'gain, ya hear? Ya dumb stupid bitch." _

_ He wiped the spit off his face, and pulled up his pants. "I was wrong about you, I guess I'm gon' have to teach you a thing or two 'bout respectin' a man." He shouted, slamming the door behind him on his way out, leaving Beth naked on the bed, once again left alone in the darkness. _

She awoke startled, shooting straight up out of the horror of her dream. Quickly realizing she was in Daryl's tent, and not down in that cellar, steadied her breathing and heartbeat back to normal. The nightmares tore their way through the barrier of her mind almost every night, even when she was so exhausted she couldn't muster a feeling or thought before sleep. Still, they always found her, creeping and crawling their way into her private chambers. She felt violated, as if her own mind was betraying her. She was split between those nightly visits and the waking reality of the world around her. They dragged themselves along with her, clinging to her skin, refusing to let go. They pushed her farther and farther into the ground, into her own grave.

Last night had been so strange. She had been excited to find Daryl, but then she didn't know how to act around him. All she could think of was the terrible thoughts that plagued her mind, they overwhelmed her. Just thinking of all the things that were to come still, that were going to happen. There was no protection from it, no release. They wrapped their claws around her neck, suffocating her, making it impossible to communicate with Daryl at all. Hearing of the terrible people at Terminus, that they had tried to _eat_ the people she loved; that they had eaten other human beings before. God, she knew this world was awful enough with walkers craving flesh but now actual humans too. What was wrong with these people? She didn't understand it, couldn't even begin to fathom the concept of it. She would rather starve and die then resort to what they did. She didn't understand humanity anymore; she was ashamed to be a part of it.

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she unzipped the tent and stepped out into the soft light of morning. Daryl was sitting up against a tree opposite the tent, sharpening a stick to a solid point. He looked tired and worn out.

"Mornin'" she rasped, pulling on her boots and adjusting the oversized flannel Daryl had given her to wear.

"Sleep good?" Looking up at her through the halo of dark hair surrounding his eyes and face, he was just as intense and tough as ever. She was glad to be with him again, no matter how torn up she was inside, she appreciated him more than anything. He was still good, still Daryl.

"The best I've had in awhile thanks to you. How 'bout yourself? Doesn't look like you got much. You didn't have to stay out here yanno, I feel bad." She looked down at the ground, kicking the dirt and leaves around her.

"Nah, I'm all good. I'm just happy you were able to rest up. We got a long road ahead of us." He gestured to a map she only now noticed spread out around him. She stepped closer, leaning down on her knees beside him to check it out. There were marked roads lighting up the state of Georgia with blues, oranges, pinks, and greens. They looked so bright and vibrant, quite the opposite of the frequent landscape she encountered. They looked pretty.

"We're around here." He pointed to a random spot in the chaos of marked roads and woods. She hadn't realized how close she was to the farm still. It looked to be only about 5 miles or so. "And we need to follow in this direction. We set up a planned path along with alternate routes to D.C., so we can catch up to 'em eventually and all."

It was going to be one hell of a trip. He traced the highlighted lines with his index finger, smoothing out one path to where they all came together, to Washington D.C. It was always so strange to look at maps, to see things so neatly laid out with all the different lines like veins in a hand. She imagined the landscape they represented, the lush greens and yellows. Maps could never accurately give life to a place, they failed to grasp the complicated reality of nature. Before, she imagined people going about their daily lives, now it was all the run down abandoned places that were left to the imagination. Beth got a gnawing feeling in the deepest pit of her stomach. There was so much lying ahead of them, maybe good, maybe bad.

"How long do you think it's gonna take?" She wondered out loud, picturing them working their way through those ghost towns, what she would be thinking then, what could possibly be happening.

"Two months, maybe, depending on extenuating circumstances of course." Bringing one hand up on his lap, the other to stroke his chin, he chewed on his inner lip, sitting back against the tree contemplating the future.

"Well, we should start going then, try and find a nice place to eat and get a good rest up before sundown. We're gonna need it." She stood up, helping Daryl take a part his little makeshift camp. She'd always remember this place, and last night, she thought. She focused on her feelings at that exact moment, breathing it all in. She felt as if she were floating, not quite exactly there, a spectator in a very vivid movie or play, not her life. Everything that had happened to her led to this exact moment, packing things up with Daryl. Every moment was chance, breathing was a gamble. All the choices to make, all the different paths one could take. Where did they all lead to in the map of their lives? Was life just a random series of events, of happenings, or was there some greater purpose to their suffering? Were they meant to go to D.C.? Finding Daryl seemed like a sign, a fate that was predestined to be. She really had no idea; she could only keep going, had no choice but to participate in the grotesque theater, just waiting until it was her cue to exit the stage.

But if that were the case, was what happened to her meant to be? Did the spinner of fate choose her, decide that she was the one to be tied up, left to die in the cold darkness? She chose to do what she did on her own, or was it supposed to play out the way it did? She pondered if she could have changed anything really, if she ever even had a choice. Maybe she was supposed to die back at the farmhouse when she slit her wrist; everything that happened to her was punishment for her existence. Her survival had put such a burden on so many people, she didn't want to do that to them anymore. It was too early to think of these things, she was giving herself a headache already. She often allowed herself to drift to questions such as these, but she wasn't alone anymore. There was too much to do now, she couldn't wallow in her depression, no matter how much she wanted to curl up inside herself and give up. That would be too easy, and she was here damn't, despite everything that was thrown at her.

Finishing getting everything packed up and ready to go, she stood in admiration of Daryl. He had been through so much himself. He had walked through fire and brimstone and made it out alive, he had never quit. Every moment was a struggle for her; caught between two worlds, the past and the future. For now though, she would stuff it into the darkest corners of her mind. Grabbing Daryl's hand, they took off north east towards D.C., locked together in survival, setting off into the bright morning. He was her future, he was her now.


End file.
